


groundwater

by VictoriaG16



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Extended Metaphors, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaG16/pseuds/VictoriaG16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you wonder if you love her. you don't want to, but that doesn't the change the fact that you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	groundwater

**Author's Note:**

> after finding that i've read all of the t'pol/hoshi fic on here, i decided that i should stop being a lazy ass and write my own.

T'pol wonders, day in and day out, if she loves Hoshi. Ensign Sato. Ensign Sato, she reminds herself time and time again, that they're on duty and she should be referred to by her title and surname. Not Hoshi, that's for long hours in the mess hall after their shifts, when professionalism can be dropped. Maybe not dropped entirely, but it can hang and sag and loosen on their tongues for a moment or two.

She is the most fascinating person T'pol has ever known; her ability to hear a language and understand what's being said, her quick wit and bright smile, her bravery and steadfastness against the worst of the galaxy. At the very least, T'pol admires her. Appreciates her companionship.

Hoshi is, without even the slightest inflection of doubt, in love with T'pol. She hides it well, masks it below formal Vulcan phrases, but T'pol knows her well. Years in space, serving in close quarters, does that to people.

Sometimes, after long days, T'pol will catch glimpses of her subordinate. Dark eyes roaming over her body, trying to really know, really understand, that T'pol is there, right across the table, right across the chasm of regulations and priorities and a thousand other excuses. Gentle sighs breathing from her lips, trying to cover up the pungent yearning with another drink of coffee. And it's in those moments, quiet moments after hours, that T'pol almost loves her.

T'pol is a desert, and Hoshi is a traveler, fatigued and dying. She wants to reach out her hand, caress her face, let her know that she's not all empty and dry, there's anger and despair and yes, love, swimming underneath the surface. She -- they, plural -- just needed to figure out how to get to them, the unlock the strongbox around her heart pumping green blood.

Oh Surak, how does she get to the groundwater without starting a deadly flood? Or, if she can't, how does she let Hoshi waste away?

The simple answer is that she can't do either, because either one would mean giving up something she has come to depend on so fully, her whole world would wink into nonexistence.


End file.
